


Trade the Cards

by orsumfenix



Category: The Lorien Legacies - All Media Types, The Lorien Legacies - Pittacus Lore
Genre: Alternate Universe - Character Swap, Conversations, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 10:11:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12651477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orsumfenix/pseuds/orsumfenix
Summary: In another universe, Number Eight sells out both Lorien and Earth for free food.





	Trade the Cards

**Author's Note:**

> i don’t know if anyone can tell by the end of ll i literally only cared about the garde + adam and rex which is why…that’s…this whole fic  
> originally this was gonna have b i g l o n g c h a p s but seeing as procrastination is my mortal enemy i figure ill probs get more done a bit at a time  
> each garde has been moved down three places, making eight in five's position and john in one's etc.

Adam's mother redoes his tie five times.

"It's  _fine_ ," he says when she moves in for a fifth, jerking out of her reach. "He won't care about how tight a stupid tie is."

His mother bites her lip, anxiety clear.

"You have to look nice for our Beloved Leader," she insists, mouth pinching at the sides. "It's very good of him to see us, you know."

"I know."  _You've said. Fifty times._ "I'll try to impress him."

"Try?" She repeats, eyebrow raised. It's the first time since his father died that she's seemed like herself.

Adam smiles.

"I  _will_ impress him. Both of us will."

"I'm sure you will." She returns the smile, straightening her back. "Ivanik, I expect the same of you. Make our Beloved Leader  _remember_ you. Make him  _respect_ you."

"I will, Mrs Sutekh." Ivan smirks, bouncing with excitement. "How long until we see him?"

"Not long now." She's excited, too. They all are. This is going to be the best moment of their lives. "Children, we are  _so_  blessed."

\--

Setrakus Ra doesn't feel like a blessing. Setrakus Ra feels like terror.

Still, if there's one thing Adam isn't allowed to be it's weak, so he squares his shoulders and takes deep breaths and tries to look like he's a lot older than he really is.

"I was sorry to hear of the deaths of your fathers," Setrakus states. His tone is honest, but something in his eyes says that he's not sorry at all. His gaze turns to Adam's mother. "And of your husband. General Sutekh was a very strong soldier. You should be proud."

"Thank you, Beloved Leader." She doesn't quite  _smile_ , exactly, but her gratification shines clearly through her words. "I am told it was an honourable death."

Setrakus nods.

"That it was. The blow he struck should've finished the Garde. It was only due to their -  _dirty tricks_  that he was the one who perished."

It's true.

No one's sure what happened, only that Adam's father stabbed the Garde right through the back, only for the injuries to reflect back on him instead. From there the Garde managed to escape, with every single injury he took being inflicted on the ones that tried to hurt him.

Maybe it was a legacy. Maybe it was a weapon. Either way, his father is dead because of it. 

Setrakus rounds his gaze on Adam and Ivan. It feels as though he's looking at them like bugs that he's deciding whether to play with before squashing.

He wishes Kelly were here, just so he wouldn't have to be the smallest Mogodorian in the room, but she's staying with one of his mother's friends while they meet with Setrakus. He bets in a few years she'll be angry that she didn't get to see their Beloved Leader, but as of right now she's still too young to understand that their father is dead.

"I hear the two of you will soon be beginning your training." Setrakus cuts in to Adam's thoughts like a hot knife. "I'm sure you will make excellent additions to our army."

"Thank you, Beloved Leader."

Setrakus turns away, and it seems like that's the end of it, but then he whips right back around and  _stares._

"Tell me," he beings abruptly, eyes as hard as always. Adam swallows. "What would you have done, in your parents' place? How would you have fought the Garde?"

Ivan snorts, answering on instinct. "Fought harder."

Setrakus nods like he expected it, eyes moving to Adam.

"And you?"

Adam hesitates before responding, dragging his foot along the floor. He can sense his mother behind, urging him to answer correctly.

"Well?" Setrakus presses, pupils managing to get even darker. A shaky breath emerges from Adam's mouth.

"I would've - captured him."

Setrakus pauses.

"Explain."

Adam's fingers start to twiddle with each other. It's a nervous habit he's never been able to break. "I would've captured him. For information. We might have had to - to torture him, and if that didn't work then we'd, um...threaten him? With people he loves." He breaks off, thinking it over. "Humans, maybe?"

Setrakus is silent for several moments before a short bark of laughter emerges from his throat, taking Adam by surprise.

"You have a tactical mind! I like that. We're lacking in soldiers that can think, nowadays."

Adam bites down his response.  _That's because almost all your soldiers are vatborn and they've been bred for nothing but fighting._ Instead he just beams.

"Thank you, Beloved Leader." 

Setrakus looks back up at his mother, smiling grimly.

"Susannah, Ivanik, it was very nice to meet you. I'm so sorry for your loss. Adamus." Those eyes are trained on him again. "Could you wait behind for a few moments? I wish to speak to you in private." He waits for the, to go before continuing, leaning closer. "Do you want to be a soldier, Adamus?"

"It - would be an honour -"

"Don't give me that," Setrakus cuts in, voice harsh. Adam stops. "Tell me what you  _want_. Surely you must know? Surely you must have ambition?"

He turns the words over in his head before speaking them, pronouncing each syllable carefully. "I want to serve my planet."

Setrakus leans back. "Well said. But that wasn't a test, Adamus." Honestly, with the amount of times and the way he's been saying Adamus, it's like he's  _trying_  to make him uncomfortable. "I have a preposition for you. I want you to come and live on the Anubis. You would be training with me personally, along with other high-up officers. You would be taught to be tactful, to be resourceful...and, of course, to be ruthless."

Adam stares. He knows what he  _should_ say. He should take the offer without blinking, and feel nothing but pride that  _he's_ been chosen above everyone else.

Instead he says: "Why me?"

"Like I said, you have a tactical mind. That's becoming increasingly uncommon. I want to utilise you. You have talent."

He'd feel a lot better about being told that if it didn't feel like he was being buttered up for something.

"Ivan's stronger."

"You're smarter."

Something about this is rubbing him the wrong way. He could make his excuses, tell Setrakus that without his father there he needs to step in, to help prepare his sister and train alongside Ivan.

But his Beloved Leader is asking something of him.

He pushes himself up to look taller. "My answer is yes. Thank you for this opportunity."

\--

The idea comes to him years later, and it's not long before he's made the appropriate arrangements. Number Eight is the only Garde they currently have in captivity, and he ends up owing several people favours, but in the end Adam gets to walk into an interrogation room with Eight cuffed to the table.

"Dude," Eight says as soon as he enters. Adam blinks. For some reason, Number Eight looks  _very much_ like a Mogodorian. "Are you the reason I was black-bagged and dragged here when I was  _trying_ to sleep?"

"Will you hate me if I say yes?" 

Eight seems to consider it for a moment, watching carefully as Adam takes a seat.

"...Nah," he eventually settles on, shrugging loosely. "It's not like I can't catch up later. It'd be nice to know who you are, though."

"I'm Adamus. You can just call me Adam, if it makes you more comfortable."

"Cool. You can just call me Eight."

"Okay, then, Eight. Care to explain why you look like a member of my species?"

"I thought it'd make me feel more at home." His tone is innocent, but his eyes are deep with humour. So. He's a prankster. Despite himself, Adam finds himself grinning.

"Well, I know your cell must be doing a great job of that. It's top-of-the-range, you know. You should feel honoured." He leans forward. "So, you can shapeshift?"

"Wouldn't  _you_ like to know."

"I would. Considering I arranged to talk to you as soon as possible, I'd have thought that'd be pretty obvious. I want to know all about you and I want to know all about the other Garde." His head tilts. "Have you made contact with them?"

"No. I've told you guys a  _thousand_ times."

Adam waves an arm. "I know. I was just - clarifying." He bites his lip. The excitement's brewing in his chest, ready to burst forwards with his next words. This is his Big Moment. This is what every Mog dreams of doing.

Well. Every  _clever_ Mog.

"Eight," he says, gearing up to echo the words Setrakus said to him so many years ago. "I have a preposition for you. It might sound bad at first, but I want you to listen to everything I'm saying and think about it very carefully. Weight the pros and cons. Think about what's on the table here, and what saying no might get you."

Eight scowls. "Stop talking to me like I'm twelve." His hand jerks where it's cuffed to the table, like he was trying to casually move it and forgot that, oh yeah, he's a prisoner here. "Go on."

Adam tells him his idea. Eight listens carefully the whole time, face unreadable. He hears Adam tell him why he should do it and what he would gain and how far they're willing to go all without making a single expression.

When he gets to the end Eight starts to drum his fingers on the table. It's honestly kind of creepy how Mogodorian he looks. Shapeshifting sounds like a cool power, but there are some things that should only remain good in theory.

"So," Eight starts carefully. "Let me get this straight. You want me to betray my entire dead civilisation, my dead Cepan, my  _surviving_ fellow Garde, and the entirety of the human race?"

"Yes."

His mouth quirks. "Huh. What's in it for me?" Noticing Adam's expression, he raises a brow. "Not the answer you were expecting?"

Adam shifts.

"I was expecting you to tell me to go fuck myself," he confesses. "I have a speech prepared that's supposed to convince you to join our cause, but it looks like you don't actually need convincing. Which is awkward."

"Try and convince me anyway. I might need a good excuse later on."

"O... _kay_." He arches his brows, trying to convey  _you're not at all like I thought you would be_ without actually saying it. "Let's face it. The Loric aren't going to win this fight. Throwing your lot in with them? That would be the biggest mistake of your life."

"I  _guess_." Eight wrinkles his nose. Adam's not quite sure if he's enjoying this conversation and it's confusing the hell out of him. "But, like, maybe siding with you guys would be a big mistake? I mean, you kind of killed my species? And tried to kill me? So you'll forgive me if I don't exactly trust you."

"But why kill you if we could recruit you?"

He hopes his eyes look as deep and dark and unsettling as Setrakus'. It might help convince him. It'd certainly help to convince  _him_ , in Eight's position.

"Think about it," he says, pushing forwards with the speech. "An entire planet of Garde and Cepan couldn't defeat our army. What makes you think nine teenaged Garde are going to have better odds? I understand that you've trained your whole lives for this endgame, this upcoming battle that you've been looking forward to, but - who says that battle even has to happen? Your dead Cepan? Why should he or she get a say in what you do with your life? Why should  _anyone_ get a say that only wishes to use you and your gifts? Face it. The Loric just wanted you to be their weapon. That's how you've been raised. Not like a person."

"Okay, I get what you're saying," Eight interrupts, a foreign emotion lurking in his eyes. "And I agree with some of it. But the problem is that, like, you're telling me that because my Cepan only raised me to be a weapon for the Loric, then I should go and be a weapon for the Mogs instead out of spite or something? I'm not dumb. I know you only want to use me."

"You're right. And I'm being up-front about that. Having you on our side would be an advantage and we'd be idiots not to try and utilise it." Adam shrugs leaning back. "I don't know what your motivation will be. Maybe it  _will_ be spite. Maybe it'll be the knowledge that your odds of survival are pretty high if you join us - by which I mean, if you  _do_ go through with the 'endgame' you're almost certainly going to die." A smile dances around his lips. "We're willing to pay you for your troubles. In more ways than one."

"Wait, I'm confused. Are you bribing me or threatening me?"

"Who says I'm not doing both?"

Eight falls silent, eyes scanning over him. Adam tries to hold himself still. 

"...I like food," is the eventual abomination to fall out of Eight's mouth. Adam stares.

"What?"

"I said I like food."

"I heard what you said." 

The ensuing silence is awkward in the you're-a-lot-less-moral-then-I-was-expecting sense. If Adam's interpreting this correctly, then Eight seems to want payment for selling out two planets in the form of food. Which is good for  _him_ , of course. It's easily accessed and won't take bribing the government or anything like that. It's just...weird.

Number Eight is  _weird_.

"You're weird," Adam says. "Are all Loric like this?"

Eight shrugs and grins. "I wouldn't know. You'd have to ask them." 

**Author's Note:**

> hope u enjoyed!! any feedback wud be amazing :)


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